


Scars and Stitches

by rhps_brad_fan



Category: Nip/Tuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 01:46:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17416631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhps_brad_fan/pseuds/rhps_brad_fan
Summary: A collection of prompt fills and drabbles





	1. Daydreams and Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> January 1: Today is the first day of the rest of their life. A character’s just been given a second chance to get things right. How do they feel about this new beginning? (200 words)
> 
> Set in the final season.

Christian awoke in a cold sweat from the nightmare and sat straight up in bed. 

"Baby, are you okay?" 

The voice in the darkness cut him right to his core and he gasped a little as her warm hands snaked around his waist.

"Kimber?" He asked softly. No, it couldn't be. Kimber was gone. Kimber had taken her own life months ago... or had she? 

"Who else would it be?" There was an accusatory sharpness to her tone. 

"No... No, this... this isn't right. I'm still dreaming," Christian insisted, pulling away from her and quickly standing away from his bed. 

"What has gotten into you, Christian?" Kimber asked him again. She reached over and turned on the light on the bedside table, illuminating the room. 

Christian thought she looked like an angel with the white bedsheets pulled up around her naked body and the soft glow of the light outlining her petite frame. He was breathing heavily now, trying to make sense of it all. They had been married and everything had crumbled just like it always did with the two of them. He'd pushed and pushed and she'd finally broken. They'd destroyed each other until there was nothing left and Kimber was nothing more than a ghost haunting his daydreams and nightmares. 

"You're not real," He told her softly, shaking his head and she rolled her eyes at him like she always did. 

"I don't know what your deal is, Christian, but I'm right here," She said to him. She got up, pulling the bedsheets with her. They trailed on the floor behind her like the train of a gown. She crossed the room and went over to him, standing right in front of him.

He reached out to touch her shoulder and much to his surprise, he could feel her. She was so warm, so real. How could he trust it though? How had it happened? Had everything been a dream? He had to know. "Kimber, I need you to hurt me," He said to her. 

"No. I already told you, we're not doing that again, Christian," Kimber told him firmly and she took a step back from him. "If you want to choke yourself, you--" 

"No. Jesus, not that," Christian was quick to dismiss. "Just pinch me, kick me, slap me... _something... anything_. I just need to know that I'm not still dreaming," He practically begged her. 

Kimber looked uncertain about that, but without needing to be told twice, she reared back and slapped him across the face. 

"What the hell?!" He demanded. His cheek was already throbbing and he wondered if she'd left a hand print. 

"What? You _told me_ to slap you!" Kimber defended.

"I didn't say in the face! Jesus Christ!" He snapped, but it began to sink in that it hurt. This wasn't a dream. She was real and he had another chance to make things right. He couldn't lose her again. "I'm sorry," He apologized. "You're right. I told you to," He said to her.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Kimber asked him and she didn't mean his face. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I am," He assured her. He reached out and pulled her close to him. "I just... I had a dream you weren't here," He admitted. 

"Baby," She soothed. "You know I'm not going anywhere," She promised and she let the sheet fall as she put her arms around him to pull him into a kiss. 

Christian didn't know how, but he'd lucked into another chance with her. He wasn't going to be such an asshole this time around. If she really wanted to have another kid, they'd figure it out. Anything to keep her from jumping off that yacht.


	2. Carved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January 2: Unwitting Test Subject. Someone’s running an experiment, but they didn’t bother to inform anybody first. Could be lighthearted or quite grim - your choice. (500 words)
> 
> Set somewhere in season 5.

Dr. Christian Troy couldn't remember being more frightened. There were a few other times in his life when he'd woken up restrained, but all of those he had been able to handle. This time was different. His vision was blurred and he winced against the bright lights as he tried to take stock of his surroundings. His head was pounding. He knew he probably had a concussion and had been knocked out by something, but what? 

"Nice to see you're finally joining us." 

Quentin Costa came into view before him and Christian's blood ran cold. He'd already lived through this before and it had nearly cost him his hand. They'd left the Carver behind when they left Miami for Los Angeles and Quentin had disappeared. There had always been this unsettled feeling within him that things weren't over, but he had hoped a fresh start would have put all of that behind him. Now, he knew just how wrong he was. He realized he was strapped down to the operating table in his own practice and he struggled against the restraints. 

"What? No warm welcome?" Quentin asked him as he approached. He was dressed for surgery, but he already had blood splatter on his surgical scrubs. "That's alright. Sean wasn't very chatty either."

 _Sean_. Christian felt panic rise within him and he tried to turn his head to see around the room. He caught sight of another operating table a few feet away with Sean strapped down much the same. Christian couldn't see exactly what had been done to his best friend, but he was certain the blood belonged to him.

"You're not going to get away with whatever this is, Quentin. Not again," He warned him and Quentin leaned down close to him. 

"Oh, I think I will. Neither of you learned your lesson before, so maybe it's time for another one," Quentin said. He reached over to the rolling cart to get a fresh scalpel.

"Sean! Sean!" Christian yelled for him, trying to rouse him or at least see if Quentin had left him alive. "Someone help!" 

"Scream all you'd like. Everyone else has gone home and I don't think Sean's going to be waking up anytime soon. He passed out after the amputation of the first few fingers. Went into shock, the poor thing," He mentioned to him as casually as if he'd been talking about the weather. 

Christian strained to look over at his best friend again, trying to verify if what Quentin was saying was true. He could see upon second glance that there were bloody bandages on Sean's hands, but that was hardly confirmation. Part of him knew he wasn't one to bluff and he looked away again, feeling sickened at the thought. 

"What are you going to do with me? Cut off my hands?" Christian asked him and Quentin smiled. 

"No... I've already ensured Sean will never operate again and we both know he was the real talent in your partnership. You're the charm... the looks... the salesman that lures in every insecure set of tits into this place and into your bed," He told him. "I've taken Sean's greatest assets from him and now, I'm going to take yours. When I'm finished with you, you'll finally understand what it is to have someone see beneath the vapid veneer and just how ugly you really are, Christian. Now... where to start?" 

Christian could tell from his tone that he wasn't just talking about disfiguring his face by taking his 'assets' and he futilely struggled against the restraints again as the scalpel neared him. 

"I think we'll start with the face and work our way down," Quentin mused. "Beauty is a curse on the world." He lowered the blade and made the first cut.


	3. Resentment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January 3: You can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. But this last endeavor had a high cost indeed. In the aftermath, someone asks the question: was it worth it? (300 words)

"Was it worth it?" 

Julia's voice cut through the tense air between them and Sean had to restrain from wincing at her tone.

"Julia, I'm sorry," He apologized to her, but she held up her hand. 

"That's not what I asked, Sean. Was it worth it? Was _she_ worth it?" Julia snapped at him. 

Their marriage had been hanging on by a thread and honestly this was a long time coming between the two of them. Neither one were happy, but they'd been clinging to their marriage as if it weren't the casualty of some sunk cost fallacy. How many times did they have to do this? How many times did they have to rip each other apart before enough was enough? How many new ways could they find to hurt one another before the resentments and regrets piled too high and one of them broke? 

"This isn't all on me, Julia," Sean told her as his own frustrations bubbled to the surface. "You've been freezing me out for years! What was I supposed to do? I'm not the only one that's been unfaithful!"

"You cannot throw that back in my face. Not after everything. Not after you practically begged me to stay with you and work on us. My infidelity was eighteen years ago--" 

"So that makes it okay?" Sean asked her. "You slept with my best friend and kept it from me! You had me raise our son thinking he was mine when he wasn't! So let me ask _you_ something, Julia. If you're so unhappy with me, then was it worth it? Was any of it worth it?"


End file.
